A Taste of Glass and Fear

Screech!

My brakes screamed as I made a U-turn. I couldnít believe I was about to get shot.

What had just happen? Iím still trying to find out. All I could remember was been frozen as the shiny nine-millimeter barrel starred me in the face. It was about five seconds of drama as his gun jammed and he threw it out with angrily.

Those where the final moments of a desperate, uncertain five-minute run.

It all started with an appearance at a local drag racing scene in the northwest end of the San Fernando Valley. I didnít show up to race but ironically I ended up speeding _ trying to get away. Four gang members had shown up and expressed their dislike for racers by smashing their crowbar through the windows of a parked black Honda Civic.

ìWe told you never to come back here,î said a bald-headed man wearing nothing but black. ìWhen are you going to learn?î 

We all ran to our parked cars and tried to drive away. I did not know the attackers but were unwanted in their neighborhood.

I was the last one to leave because I fell into my worst nightmare. It was like a dream-like episodes where you try to run as fast as you can but youíre stopped for some extraordinary force. 

My car wouldnít start. I thought I was going to get killed as I turned the key many times hoping for the engine to spark. That was the first time I had ever felt time travel really slow. Half of a minute - which felt like a lifetime - had just gone by and finally the car alarm when off as if my car was yelling for help. 

As it turned out, the alarm was on an thatís why the engine wouldnít start. Being the paranoid person that Iím with my car, I had installed an alarm system that would not allow the car to move. I reacted as quickly as possible to deactivate it and turn on my car so I could drive away. But by then it was too late.

As I drove away, the bent tip of the crowbar crashed all the way through my front windshield as the tall, light-skinned gang member took some Sammy Sosa-like swings. He did so again, this time making a big dent on the passenger door. 

ìGet in!... Hurry!î I said as I picked up two female friends who were trying to get away on foot.

ìWho are they?î one girl said afraid. ìWhat do they want?î

The other girl acted as calm as if this was a baseball player acts during a routine play. Sheís used to violence because she was born and raised in South Gate, a city surrounded by gang-related crimes.

ìThey just donít want us here,î she said. ìWeíre on their territory.î

Once the tension had settled I realized my face was covered in small glass debris that exploded from the windshield. I made sure that everybod were alright as the whole thing sunk in.

I cussed many times as I dusted the glass off my face, and looked at the damage. Then I started chewing small bits of glass that worked their way into the gum I was enjoying moments before the incident.

Time returned to its normal beat as I caught up with the other drivers I was with. I followed the pack back to the scene _ though I thought it to be a wrong decision _ because the owner of the Civic who was with us was missing. New racers showed up and began to wonder what had just happened to my car. 

ìI donít know, I donít know,î I said.

The gang members _ insulted because we had come back _ returned in their dirty old Buick. They wanted to make sure we got their message.

I was probably the most scared person on the block. So I drove away when I saw them coming back to handle unfinished business. 

Along with me, was the driver of a late model Ford Mustang who drove away as soon as I left the scene. We made a right turn and stoped about half a mile from the spot as the passangers of the Mustang began to question me with what had just happened. Next all the cars turned the corner going as fast as they could.

I wanted to get into the road but it wasnít easy as 15 cars drove by at high speeds. The driver of the Mustang and I proceeded into the road as there was a clear entrance into the far right lane of the street. Thatís when hell broke loose.

An Oldsmobile _ old and dirty _ drove next to me as I shifted into a lower gear. I had to slow down as we drove over a railroad crossing and prepared to make a right turn at the T-intersection. 

The bald gang member that was sitting on the passenger side of the beat-up car screamed obscenities as we made the right turn side-by-side. He scowled with| anger as he reached down and pulled out a shiny nine-millimeter pistol. His upper body came out the window as he pointed the weapon towards my car. He was about five to ten feet away from me with no room to miss. I had nothing to do but to lean low and use my door as a shield. Then it happened.

Click... Click... Click....

The bald guy's pistol had taken a rain check. ìLucky for me,î I thought as I used my wits and turned the car around and drove 80 to 100 miles per hour.

Till this day, I canít remember if the first light-signal we crossed was green or red. I crossed the intersection without thinking _ all I wanted was to get away.

That night I didnít sleep. I couldnít think of anything but about why the gang members acted the way they did. I know their lifestyle is to be bad and prove to the world that they have nothing to fear. Maybe thatís why they did it or maybe like others tell me ìtheyíre jealous of the nice cars we drive.î

Thinking all of that only made me realize how close I came to losing my life. For days I was paranoid with the sight of any Regal, Oldsmobile and Buicks _ typically the types of autos driven by those affiliated with gangs.

That night I learned something. When it comes down having fun, there will always be people and things that will stand in the way. It showed me that there will be nothing to stop you if youíre willing to give up your life for a couple hours of fun.

A couple of weeks later at a restaurant I saw the girl who was hysterical during and after the whole episode. She appeared to be back to normal as she hid her emotions with bravery. The emotional scar showed through as she said ìweíre still going out there to race.î

For me, however, the racing scene is something I could live without. Finally struck me - weíre against both the good guys and the bad boys.

The police officers will take your vehicle away if youíre involved in a race. We're against the gang members only because weíre not one of them.

Either way, we canít win.